


sixteen

by hannrose



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, literally takes place right after the mid-credit scene, peter is very upset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 00:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannrose/pseuds/hannrose
Summary: MJ asks Peter what happened on the bridge, but when it feels like the world is out to get him, his emotions take over.





	sixteen

His life was utterly and completely over.

Years of keeping this secret, years of lying to the people he cared about, years where he gained more enemies than he could physically count-- and now everyone knew. Peter Parker was Spider-Man, and there was no way he could deny it.

Peter paced the hardwood floors of his apartment, still in suit. He ran his fingers through his hair obsessively, his breathing loud enough to be heard from the apartment across the hall. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the vibration of his phone.

Hundreds of messages were popping up every minute. Not only were they from his friends, but also complete strangers. Strangers who, somehow, found his phone number, and his Instagram, and wouldn’t stop harassing him with questions. Peter, stupidly, read a few. Some were nice, and others were borderline abusive. 

This is  _ exactly _ why he wanted things to be a secret. He was only sixteen. He had his whole life ahead of him.

Keyword:  _ had _ . Now it’s all over. He wouldn’t be known as anything other than Spider-Man, if the police will even let him roam freely anymore.

There was a knock on the door that made Peter jump. His limbs shook as he approached it, as he convinced himself that it was an angry mob here to attack him. But, looking through the peephole, he saw a friendly face. MJ. She looked exactly the exact same as she did just thirty minutes before, except with a distraught and sympathetic face. “Let me in, loser,” she said.

That was smart; intentionally not telling his neighbors his name.

Peter cracked the door open just enough for MJ to slip through, as he stayed behind the wooden barrier from the outside world. He closed it as soon as possible, letting out a sigh of relief as he did.

Instantly, MJ wrapped her arms around him. One hand hugged his waist tightly as the other held his shoulder, and she rested her head in a way that her lips touched the skin of his neck. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the heat spreading across his neck.

“I don’t know what to do, MJ,” he sobbed. Peter didn’t expect to cry in front of her so soon-- he knew it would happen one day, but not when their relationship was just starting to flower.

And who knew if MJ still wanted to be with him now that the world knew.

“You could make a statement, like on national TV or something. Or--”

Peter broke the embrace, drying his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “That’s not what I meant, MJ. How am I supposed to live anymore?”

“I know, I- I just didn’t know what to say.” She followed him at his heels into the living room, and sat next to him on the couch. Her fingers intertwined with his, but she kept a healthy few inches between their bodies. “Nothing is ever going to be the same.”

“Flash is already trying to be my best friend. I was just offered a quarter of a million dollars to sponsor Gatorade. And Ned-- Ned said his parents don’t want him seeing me anymore because I’m a  _ criminal _ and a  _ murderer _ .” He gripped MJ’s hand, like it was the only thing keeping him stable.

She didn’t talk, and just let him cry. She rested her head on his shoulder, every so often looking up at him and clearing his tears and placing a comforting kiss on his cheek. MJ took his phone from him and powered it off, and the two of them sat in silence.

If Peter closed his eyes, he could pretend like they were on the plane back home from Europe. Where they had planned out their dates for the entire summer (MJ liked knowing things way in advance, and told Peter he couldn’t flake out of her this way), where they would sneak kisses when they noticed no one was looking. Where he  _ finally _ got to use his dual headphone adapter, where he got to see the look on Brad’s face when he stumbled upon one of the secret kisses.

Where everything felt like it was going his way for once. MJ’s head was on his shoulder the whole time, her warmth a comfort. Peter had a girlfriend, and none of his classmates died. That summer had a chance to be his best one yet.

And then-- he opened his eyes. Back in the apartment that didn’t feel like his home yet, and the world proved yet again that Peter Parker didn’t deserve to be happy.

“H-hey, Peter?” MJ’s wavered, like she was nervous. “I-- I was raised to be cautious, right? To trust your gut but also to realize that maybe… maybe your gut is wrong. And in this situation I  _ know _ my gut is right but it’s literally going to kill me if I don’t ask so--”

He felt his body go cold. Lurching onto his feet, Peter restrained the urge to yell out his next words. “Do you think I killed him? Is that what you’re about to ask?”

“ _ No _ , no, I don’t think you killed him.” MJ had tears running down her own cheeks; his hand touched the shoulder she was resting on, and felt the enormous wet spot on the fabric. “Peter, I know with my entire being that what they’re saying on the news isn’t true. You would rather yourself die than anyone else. Even your worst enemy.”

“ _ But _ ?” he said through gritted teeth.

MJ stood up. She took hesitant steps towards Peter, her eyes steady on his. “But… but I have to ask. You never told me what happened on the skywalk. All you said was that ‘He’s dead, you’re safe now.’ But you never told me the specifics.”

“Don’t you think there’s a reason for that?” he said, the volume increasing to a level that would get him kicked out of a library. “I had to watch him die, MJ. The last person I watched die-- and the person before that--”

She reached her hand out, almost making contact with his cheek, but Peter slid out of her grasp. “Peter--”

“Don’t touch me, MJ.” It felt like the whole world was sitting on his throat and waiting for his head to explode. He could hardly breathe, and couldn’t stand to look at her. She thought he was guilty, like the rest of the world did. Like May probably would, like Ned. Like every fucking person he had ever met, all of them would want him in jail. 

“Okay, okay, I won’t.” She held her hands up for a moment, then they slipped into her back pocket. “Tell me what else happened.”

He wanted to.

Peter wanted to tell her everything on the London Bridge, or during the eight hour plane ride. The words didn’t want to come to him, though. The memory didn’t want to be relived.

“Why can’t you just believe me, MJ?” It sounded distorted through his own ears, but perhaps it was just because of the sobbing. 

Her breath caught and she started to stammer. “I- I do believe you. I just-- I need to hear the whole story.”

“Why? It’ll get you nowhere. It won’t help with anything. If you believe me now, you’ll believe me after, and I will have to relive one of the most traumatic moments in my life for nothing.”  _ Now  _ he was yelling. It felt so foreign to him, yelling without the mask on. That barrier was gone, and seeing the person’s face without it felt like a punch to the heart.

MJ cleared her throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked. L-let’s sit back down on the couch, and I can put on a movie and we can just-- Where are you going?”

He was walking towards the window. Peter accidentally broke the latch off of it completely in a fit of rage, something May would punish him for later. He pulled the window open and said to MJ, “Go home. Your parents probably don’t want you spending time with a murderer, either.”

Peter didn’t bother putting the mask on. It felt redundant, so he wasted no time trying to find it and jumped out the window, hearing a deafening “PETER!” from his apartment. 

Swinging across town didn’t dry out his tears, nor did it clear his head. He landed on the rooftop of a random building he had once declared his favorite spot in his favorite city. It was just a meaningless apartment complex, but from its peak you could see the skyscrapers from Manhattan, unobstructed. It was a beautiful sight, but he had a hard time stomaching it. So, Peter laid on his back, looked up at the sky, and stayed there.

He was waiting for an epiphany to struck. The only thing that struck, however, was a major influx of guilt. MJ was inquisitive, it was just her nature; she didn’t deserve to get chewed out over it. And the way she looked at him… Well, Peter would be surprised if she ever talked to him again.

The roof-access door swung open, and he didn’t bother moving. If the cops were here to take him away, then so be it.

It wasn’t the cops, though. It was MJ. “Before you leave again, I need you to know how sorry I am.” She kneeled over him, her head covering the sun in its entirety. “I shouldn’t have asked you so soon, because it  _ just _ happened and I didn’t consider what it did to you. No, scratch that-- I shouldn’t have asked you at all, because I should’ve trusted your word.”

“H-how did you find me?” was the only thing he could muster.

“You told me about this place on the plane. Best place in the city. Has a hot dog stand out front that should only sell their lemonade. You like buying the lemonade and crappy hot dog on snowy days because you feel bad that he has to stand out in the cold with no business.” Hesitantly, MJ cupped his cheek in her hand. “I listen, Peter. I’m sorry I didn’t listen before.”

He started shaking his head and sat up so he could be eye level with her. “No. No, I was the asshole. I shouldn’t have yelled and-- and if you want, I can tell you. Everything. You deserve to know.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Her thumb stroked his cheek back and forth.

It felt like word vomit, but he told her. Every little detail he could muster, all the way up to how the light left Mysterio’s eyes. MJ had her arms around him by the time he was done, and she whispered in his ear how sorry she was. 

“I should’ve told you in the first place. I was paranoid, and I thought no one would believe me.  _ I’m _ sorry,” Peter repeated. He looked back at the city who part of him still thinks will tear him to shreds. “God, what am I going to do, MJ?”

“Believe in the good of the human heart.” He shot her a look, and they both started laughing. “I was  _ trying _ to sound like your aunt. When she gets home, you can ask her for advice. But for now, you can just sit here with me, your girlfriend, and we can act like nothing else exists.”

“My girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Hey, we had our first fight. That’s a milestone, right?”

MJ made him feel like he was floating on clouds. Like nothing else, not even the growing distrust of everyone that wasn’t her, didn’t exist. And he knew that feeling would disappear soon, he knew he would have to go home and face whatever wrath was facing him. But, not now. Right now, they were just a girlfriend and a boyfriend sitting on the roof and ignoring their problems.

They were being normal sixteen year olds. Just for a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i haven't written anything but i actually kinda like this, and i hope you did, too!
> 
> twitter: @parkerbjones  
> curiouscat: https://curiouscat.me/parkerbjones


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